


be careful of the curse (that falls on young lovers)

by hi_raeth



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Devil!Rey, F/M, Mage!Ben, bite-sized prologue monster-sized chapters, the one where Rey asks Ben to rule with her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-10 22:01:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16463156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hi_raeth/pseuds/hi_raeth
Summary: After a lifetime of being caught between the forces of good and evil, Ben Solo has developed one cardinal rule to maintain control over his own life: stay the fuck away from all things supernatural.It's a good strategy, one that works like a charm until the day he bumps into the devil herself.The fact that she knows exactly who he is and what he's running from makes things difficult. The fact that he's ridiculously into her and they might be sort of, kind of dating? That makes things dangerous.





	1. World's Best Dad

**Author's Note:**

> _but 'til that morning_  
>  _there's nothin' can harm you_  
>  _with daddy and mommy standin' by_  
>  \- _Summertime_ , Ella Fitzgerald

Ben’s very first memory is of good and evil battling it out over him, a sinister shadow slipping in through his window and slithering towards his crib until a familiar beam of light blasts the door off its hinges and charges at the intruder.

He is three years old and terrified and trapped between Light and Dark, and the shadow is hissing and his uncle is yelling and his mother is cursing–

A gunshot goes off, shatters the window and sends glass cascading to the floor. The shadow is distracted for barely a second, but it’s enough for his uncle to finally gain the upper hand and banish the intruder for now.

His uncle is panting from exertion, his mother is demanding confirmation that the shadow is gone. These are all things that Ben, still in his crib and crying in fear, hears but does not see.

What he does see is his father, smoking gun in one hand while the other reaches for Ben, picks him up and cradles him close to his chest.

“Over my fucking dead body will anyone turn my son into a pawn in this sick game,” his father vows. Ben is not yet old enough to remember this, to remember the determination in his father’s voice. All he knows in that moment is that he can breathe again, safe in his father’s arms, his father who did with his mortal weapon what his uncle could not accomplish with his light, his father who will always, always protect him.

 

* * *

 

It’s a promise that Han keeps for the rest of his life, his son’s most vocal supporter when Ben decides that Luke’s way of life isn’t for him, that Leia’s Council isn’t where he belongs.

“For fuck’s sake, Leia,” Ben overhears his father saying to his mother the night he announces he’s dropping out from Luke’s academy. “Just because he’s rejecting one side doesn’t mean he’s turning to the other!”

His mother, still scarred by the war against his grandfather, can’t see beyond Light and Dark, can’t see beyond the world she’s lived in all her life. His uncle, the son who has taken it upon himself to atone for the sins of the father, can only see the world in absolutes, can only see a slippery slope that he’s convinced Ben is going to ride all the way into the darkness.

Han dies at the age of eighty, having rejected Leia’s offer to prolong his lifespan up until the very end. With his dying breath, he tells Ben to run away from it all, to break free from his cursed family and go make a life for himself.

Ben is forty-two in human years by then, still barely an adult in physical appearance but ancient in mind and soul after a lifetime of rejecting one part of his family’s legacy while fighting against the pull of the other.

Three days after they lower his father into the ground, he packs his bags, leaves his mother a letter, and gets the fuck away from it all.

It’s what his father would have wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anyone cries false advertising (and you would be well within your rights to do so, I admit), I promise the Reylo starts almost immediately in the next chapter, which will be up by tomorrow evening at the very latest. This mini-chapter/prologue was just necessary to establish some important things about Ben's early life that end up having a formative influence on him.
> 
> I’m going all out for this one: prologue, cover, specific lyrics for each chapter, chapter titles, and - brace yourselves - possibly an M-rated bonus scene/epilogue. Hopefully, you’ll enjoy the ride as much as I’ve enjoyed writing this.
> 
> Updating daily, so don’t forget to check back for more if you enjoyed this! As always, thank you so much for reading, and please don’t hesitate to leave a comment!


	2. Meet Cute - Supernatural Edition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _be careful of the curse_  
>  _that falls on young lovers_  
>  _starts so soft and sweet-_  
>  \- _Howl_ , Florence + the Machine

He manages to avoid destiny for twenty-six blissful years. Twenty-six blissful, quiet, boring as hell years, admittedly, but boring is good, boring means no one comes knocking on his door looking for the Organa boy destined to be the next High Priest or the Vader heir doomed to be the next Dark King.

It’s all ridiculous, of course – his mother still has a solid century ahead of her at the very least, and last he heard the Underworld is perfectly happy with its current leader – but everything about his life, his family, his destiny has always been ridiculous.

Life in Lake Country is the complete opposite. He lives on the very edge of his grandmother’s estate, a small caretaker’s cabin far from the main structure, and goes about his life with little to no human interaction or supernatural interruption. His days are spent gaining knowledge for knowledge’s sake without having to categorize any of it as permitted or forbidden, and once every two weeks he drives his father’s car into town to get whatever he needs to keep himself going.

It’s a peaceful life, one that is shattered into a million pieces the day he hears a plea for help on his way back to his car.

Ben stops in front of a darkened alley, strains his senses until he hears it again – a quiet, pitiful stream of desperate pleas,  _no I promise it wasn’t me please let me go don’t hurt me I’ll never do it again please please please._ The whimpering is interrupted by a second voice, too low for him to pick up on until he hears a laugh, dark and amused and  _cruel_ , there’s no other way to describe it, and Ben sets his purchases down against a fire hydrant before he steps into the darkness.

There’s a single flickering streetlight at the end of the alley, behind a brick wall that separates it from the next street. It’s enough to illuminate a man pinned against the wall by a dark figure, slim yet strong enough to dangle her target one foot above the ground. In her other hand – it has to be a she, he can hear her voice now, all low and rich with unspoken threats – he catches a glint of metal, a curved dagger she threads between her fingers like child’s play.

“Please, please,” the man is begging, choking, gurgling on his own spit and who knows what else, “ _please,_ I don’t want to die–”

“And how do you think  _they_ felt, hmm?” the woman asks, her voice deceptively calm even as her hand moves quick as lighting, darts up to press the side of her dagger against the man’s neck.

Her accent is common enough, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Nothing about her, Ben realizes with a sinking feeling in his stomach,  _knows_ with a certainty that burns, is even remotely human.

“No, please, no, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry–”

“I’m afraid it’s too late, Mitchell,” she sighs, draws her arm back so that the dagger is held up high, catches the light of the flickering lamp before she brings her hand down to plunge the weapon into the man’s heart–

“Hey!” Ben shouts, and when both victim and assailant turn to look at him he uses one hand to knock the woman off her feet before he hurries towards the man.

“Thank you, oh god, thank you–”

Ben doesn’t spare the man a glance. Across the alley the woman has caught herself before the force of his blast could send her hurtling into the brick wall, and where her hand struck at the wall to steady herself a massive crack has appeared.

Their eyes meet, and Ben knows that his twenty-six year streak has come to an end.

“Get out of here,” he commands, and the man immediately breaks into a run.

The woman – demon, maybe, or witch – eyes her would-be victim’s retreating form with the slightest hint of dissatisfaction, but Ben speaks up before she can think of giving chase. “Why did you attack that man?”

“Man?” she laughs, slides her dagger into a sheath secured around her thigh and dusts off her hands before she saunters towards him, the sharp click of her heeled boots filling the empty alley. “I think you mean  _murderer_.”

She stops five feet away from him, crosses her arms low on her chest and arches one delicate eyebrow at him, almost  _daring_ him to react, to question. Ben fears that once he starts, he won’t stop; every single thing about her leaves him with more questions than before, even more so now that she’s stepped into the moonlight and he can take in every detail of her appearance.

A human face, young even, but the ancient look in her eyes and the smirk playing on her dark lips give her away as something else, something  _more_. Metal bands the color of gunpowder coil around her arms like snakes, and upon closer inspection the corset top he’d assumed to be leather is made of scales instead, jagged and rough and so red they’re almost black.

Dragon scales, the kind that’s so rare no amount of money or bartering will get you even a single one.

“Had your fill?” the mystery woman asks, her voice rich with amusement as she steps closer.

Ben doesn’t bother to dignify  _that_ with a comment; as if he would even think of checking a woman out after watching her nearly kill someone. “Why did you call him that -  _murderer_?” he asks instead.

“Well, I suppose  _serial killer_ would be more accurate,” she shrugs, and suddenly the space between them has dwindled down to two feet. “Four victims, and a fifth originally planned for tonight.”

No paper route delivers to Varykino, much less the hidden cabin, but he has his ways of keeping up with local news. And lately, local news has been dominated by an unknown murderer targeting unsuspecting tourists. “ _That_ was him?”

He has absolutely no reason to believe this woman; for all he knows  _she_ could be the killer and the man was her fifth target. But the dragon scales wrapped around her body, the crack in the brick wall, the sheer energy he detects now that the world has narrowed down to just the two of them… everything about her tells him otherwise.

The woman hums in affirmation. “And now I’ll have to chase him down all over again,” she sighs, but it’s plain to see that she enjoys the prospect of it, of playing cat and mouse.

“Are you…” It’s a stupid question, but he’s willing to play dumb if it gets her to reveal even the slightest shred of information. “Are you gonna hand him over to the cops?”

She throws her head back, sends a tumble of curls falling over her shoulders as she laughs. “The police? Do I  _look_ like someone who bothers with  _the cops_?” Her imitation of his accent is teasing, not mocking, and the question is obviously rhetorical.

“You, meanwhile…” the woman muses, eliminates all distance between them to pluck at the collar of his shirt before she dances her fingers down his chest, hooks her slim pointer finger into the belt loop of his jeans. “You  _almost_ look like someone who would call the police… but we both know you don’t need any help, do you?”

So much for playing dumb.

“I’ve always known there are still Force users around, but I never thought I’d find one in this sleepy little town,” she comments, finally drawing her hand away.

“And what brings you here?” Ben asks, evading that line of conversation. The woman shots him a little smirk, a barely-there curl of her lips that tells him she knows exactly what he’s doing.

She steps back. “Our mutual friend the serial killer, of course. Speaking of which, I should really get back to that.” Her eyes flash with a challenge, and Ben stares at her for all of ten seconds before he suppresses a sigh and nods.

“I guess you should.” Obviously the cops haven’t had any luck in tracking the guy down, and it’s not like he’s eager to offer his help to the townspeople. One less killer is one less killer, no matter how it goes down. He wonders again just what she is, what kind of unpleasant end the man will meet. Demon or witch or whatever, it’s clear that she’ll delight in her kill, take her time with it.

The woman acknowledges his words with a nod, gives him a smile that looks almost human. “But first,” she murmurs and, faster than his eyes can track, one manicured finger presses into his neck and breaks his skin to collect a bead of blood.

“What the fu–”

“Now I’ll be able to find you no matter where you go,” she tells him with a pleased little smirk, makes a show of sucking on her bloodied finger.

By the time Ben processes the fact that he’s very,  _very_  inappropriately turned on by that, the woman is long gone, leaving only the faintest trace of smoke lingering in the air.

 

* * *

 

Ben spends the next few days fortifying his little cabin with every protective spell and masking charm he can think of, but he knows it’s a futile effort. Anyone who can blood-track like that will also have the foresight and the ability to use his own blood against him and slip past all of his barriers. 

Sure enough, the woman shows up unannounced in his kitchen five days later, and there isn’t even the slightest ripple of a disturbance in the Force to warn him.

“Hello, Ben Solo,” she smirks, hops up on his kitchen counter and makes herself comfortable.

He freezes, half bent over to pick up the knife he'd dropped upon her arrival. “How–?”

When he looks up, she cocks her head to the side and taps at her left temple. “There’s not that many of us left in the Force. And you, burning brighter than anyone else… you were easy to find, once I knew to look for you.”

 _Easy_ , she says, as if he hasn’t been shielding his Force signature since childhood, as if he and Luke didn’t dedicate years to researching the ideal cloaking method. It’s no secret that the Skywalkers, whether by name or by blood, are all Force-gifted, but all Ben wanted as a child was to pass for just another warlock, just an ordinary spell-caster or potion-brewer. For a time, hidden by his father’s name and his uncle’s shields, he’d been able to do just that.

After his uncle’s shields faltered and his mother’s name came to light, after the dust had settled, Ben immediately set to work on forming and putting up shields of his own, a cloak that he’s kept up ever since. For this woman – demon or witch or whatever, it doesn’t  _matter_ , for her to say it was  _easy_ to find him and slip into his home just like that…

“Who  _are_ you?” Ben intends to demand, but finds himself asking in hushed awe instead.

“You could find the answer to that yourself, if you tried,” she shrugs, tapping once again at her temple. “But I could give you a hint, if you’d like.”

He nods, and waits until her pointed look makes him realize– “Please.”

She has the  _smuggest_ look when she’s pleased, especially at his expense, and Ben has dreamed of kissing that smirk off her face at least twice in the past five days. Apparently twenty-six years of solitude and celibacy have their consequences.

“There we go,” she grins, and goes on to casually announce, “Your grandfather killed mine.”

Ben ignores the unreasonable stab of guilt he feels at that. She’s clearly over it, if the look on her face is anything to go by, and he is not his uncle, he will not take on the weight of Vader’s sins, will not live in Vader’s shadow. “That…” he says instead, “doesn’t really narrow it down. My grandfather killed a lot of people,” and here he does allow himself the slightest hint of a helpless, apologetic shrug. It’s only polite.

“No need to  _brag_ ,” she teases him, an actual grin on her lips. “All right, how about this: our grandfathers killed each other.”

Whatever ease Ben felt around her, whatever odd sense of calm he’s let her lull him into – it vanishes into thin air as realization washes over him like a bucket of ice water. “But that would mean… that would make you…”

She nods.

“You’re  _Palpatine’s_ granddaughter?”

Another nod, casual as can be with the tiniest hint of amusement dancing in her eyes as she watches everything fall into place in his mind.

“ _Stars_ ,” Ben groans, drags a heavy hand down his face. “You’re Kira Ren. You’re the  _devil_ , and you’re sitting on my countertop swinging your legs like– like–” like something out of a dream he can now  _never, ever_ admit to having.

“Well,” she –  _Kira_ – frowns and crosses her arms. “ _Devil_ ’s a bit outdated, don’t you think? And a misnomer, too. Everyone always conflates Hell and the Underworld, and they get all of these ideas about me being in charge of the afterlife–”

In that moment, Ben can’t help himself. “You aren’t?” he asks, unable to bite back his curiosity.

Kira rolls her eyes. “I’m the Queen of Darkness, not the Goddess of Death,” she scoffs. “And sure, I  _suppose_ you could call some of my subjects demons, and I  _guess_ that makes me the devil, but… it just doesn’t feel right, you know?”

He looks at her, this terrifying woman who holds a primordial darkness in her eyes and wears blood on her lips but glows under the sun and swings her legs like a child, and– “Yeah, I get it.”

She beams at him,  _actually_ smiles, and Ben knows in that instant that he is  _screwed_.

“But enough about me,” Kira hops off the counter, walks up to him. “What about  _you_ , Ben Solo? Blood of Vader, heir to Light and Dark, hiding away in a tiny hut in the ruins of your grandmother’s palace–”

“Cabin,” Ben huffs, crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s a cabin, and Varykino is  _not_ in ruins, it’s just a little rundown–” He does his best to fix that, spends at least one day a week trying to restore his grandmother’s home to its former glory, but there’s not much he can do for the exterior if he doesn’t want to alert anyone to his presence.

Kira raises a brow at him. “ _That’s_ the part you choose to focus on? Really?” Her voice is dancing with laughter, and it really  _is_ like something out of a dream, this odd interaction between them that’s nothing at all like their first meeting–

–so much so that it makes him suspicious.

“So you know who I am,” he says carefully, watches her catch on to the change in atmosphere and adjust immediately as her smile disappears. “Why are you here, Kira Ren?”

The devil considers him with a slight tilt of her head, gnaws on her lower lip for a moment. “Call me Rey,” she murmurs at long last.

It’s not the answer he’d been expecting. She’s been pretty direct so far; why not just come right out with it and give him the same spiel every other Darksider he’s ever met usually does?  _What a waste of your grandfather’s legacy, what a waste of your destiny, it is your_ duty _, you_ must  _finish what Vader started, you must you must you must–_

Instead, he’s left with a name.

“Nickname?” he asks casually, leaning back against the sink.

Kira shakes her head, offers him a hesitant smile. It’s… unfamiliar on her, but not wrong, not out of place. “Name.”

His suspicion flares up with a vengeance, but something else – whatever it is that’s kept her in his mind all these days and nights – smothers it and curls in his belly instead, warm and content. “You’re… you’re giving me your real name?”

“Consider it a gesture of good faith,”  _Rey_ tells him. “There’s something about you, Ben Solo. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but congratulations, you are now one of only four living individuals in existence to know my real name.”

It’s too much, too fast,  _too much_ , his suspicion insists. Nothing in this world is ever free; this Ben knows better than anything else, was practically weaned on Council dealings, on trades and favors and exchanges.

“And what do you want in return?”

Rey smiles, and finally he sees a hint of the woman he first met, something sharp and deadly in the curve of her lips. “All I ask for in return,” she says quietly, closes the distance between them and trails her fingers down his chest in an echo of that night, “is that you help me finish what you so rudely interrupted the other evening.”

It’s hard to think, with her hand moving ever lower, but the cogs in Ben’s suspicious mind start to turn anyway. “The serial killer? You’re telling me you haven’t caught him yet?”

Any ordinary demon could have caught and killed that guy a dozen times by now. The devil herself? She could have tortured him to death fifty different ways in half that time.

“I know where he is,” Rey admits, “but I thought that maybe you and I could make a night of it, take care of business and then see where the evening takes us…”

He catches her hand just as it moves below his belt buckle. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

She turns her hand around in his, rubs the pad of her thumb against the sensitive skin of his inner wrist. “Is it working?”

If he were just a guy, and she were just a girl… But he has the devil in his kitchen, and she’s asking him to commit murder with her. “You know about the curse,” Ben surmises in a flat tone, and tries his best to ignore the little pang of disappointment that accompanies his realization. Even having a demon seduce him just for the bragging rights of having fucked Vader’s grandson would have been better than this. He pulls his hand out of hers and puts some space between them. “You know what the price is.”

“Oh well,” Rey shrugs, follows after him and forces him to retreat until he’s backed up against the wall. “It was worth a shot.”

So this is it, then, this is where she decides to cut her losses and kill him, can’t have someone running around knowing her real name if he’s not going to swear allegiance to her–

Rey spins around on her heel. “So, can I stay for lunch?”

This woman is going to be the goddamn death of him, one way or another. “Wha–  _what_?”

“Lunch,” Rey repeats patiently, gesturing at his abandoned chopping board. “I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in  _decades_ , and I think we’ll get along quite well now that there are no more secrets between us.”

The smart thing to do would be to kick her out, as politely as possible, and then swallow his pride and call his uncle for the first time since the funeral to ask him how one deals with the devil. After all, Luke’s dealt with two in his lifetime.

But Rey picks up the knife he failed to retrieve earlier, rinses it off and starts working on his half-diced tomatoes, and twenty-six years of loneliness suddenly hit him with all the force of a backfired hex.

“No more tricks, right?” Ben finds himself asking, crosses his arms and gives her his sternest look when she turns to him.

Rey smiles, and he can’t find a single trace of Kira Ren in her, sees only the way the sunlight pouring in from the kitchen window turns her eyes hazel and brings out the auburn in her hair.

“No more tricks, I promise.”

So he lets her stay, and a few days later he lets her back, and at some point Ben realizes he’s become friends with the devil.

 

* * *

 

Rey shows up one day with dark circles around her eyes rather than liner, swimming in a baggy tunic instead of her usual form-fitting outfits. After six months of friendship, Ben likes to think that he would’ve noticed something amiss even without these huge giveaways. 

“Hey,” he calls gently, and holds his arms wide open as Rey makes her way over from the kitchen. She tucks herself into his side immediately, folding her bare legs underneath her as she rests her head on Ben’s shoulder. The devil, as he’s come to discover over these past few months, will take affection wherever and whenever she can get it. After twenty-six years of zero physical contact with another living person, Ben hardly minds indulging her.

“Long day?”

Rey slides her head down to his chest with a sigh. “It’s fucking Mustafar again. They’ve refused to even negotiate a possible return.”

It still makes him uneasy, knowing that Rey is trying to reunify her grandfather’s fractured empire while he stands by and does nothing; worse than nothing, even, since he’s deliberately withholding this information from his family and actively offering her a place to rest and recharge in between diplomatic visits. And now he’s listening to her vent about his grandfather’s former stronghold, where those who remain loyal to Vader have formed a cult-slash-kingdom in his memory.

“But…” Ben scrunches up his features in confusion. “You’re their Queen. The rightful Empress. If they’re so loyal to the old kings, then why won’t they obey you?”

“Rightful?” Rey scoffs. “Not in their eyes. Palpatine never legitimized my mother and chose to declare Vader as his heir instead. These fanatics think that makes  _you_ , not me, the rightful ruler of the Underworld.”

Ben can’t help the bark of laughter that escapes him. “Me?” he asks incredulously. “But I’m not even a demon!”

Rey shrugs, one sharp shoulder digging into his chest as she does. “Vader didn’t fall to the Dark side until later on in life. I guess they’re hoping history might repeat itself with you.”

Somehow, even with an actual demon popping by his home nearly every other day, Ben’s managed to block out the unpleasant reality that there are those who  _still_ hope he’ll give in to the curse. The reminder makes his blood run cold. “Well, I hope they enjoy disappointment then, because that’s  _never_ happening,” he vows.

“Right,” Rey murmurs after a beat, tenses in his arms before she wriggles away. Her back is ramrod straight as she fixes her eyes on the TV before them, some mindless sitcom he’d put on for background noise, but he catches sight of one hand fiddling with the hem of her tunic. Ben reaches out, laces their fingers together before he uses his free hand to gently guide her eyes to his.

“Hey, what is it?”

“Nothing,” Rey mumbles, and fights against his loose hold to turn her head back to the TV. Her hand remains in his though, and Ben gives her a gentle squeeze before he tries again, driven by the dullness he’d glimpsed in her usually-twinkling eyes.

“Rey, c’mon,” he coaxes her, turns the TV off with a thought and ignores her indignant  _hey!_ as he moves to better face her. “You can tell me anything.” If only his mother could see him now, holding hands with the devil herself while he tries to encourage her to confide in him.

Rey shifts to mirror his position, but fixes her eyes somewhere on his chest rather than meeting his gaze. “It’s stupid,” she mutters, but when Ben just waits patiently and squeezes her hand again, Rey draws in a fortifying breath and slowly looks up at him as she exhales.

“I want to court you.”

There’s a ringing in his ears, as if her revelation is some kind of bomb detonated too close to his head, his heart.

“ _What?_ ” Ben hears himself asking dumbly, blood rushing in his ears now and making everything else sound so impossibly distant, so impossible period.

“Told you it’s stupid,” Rey huffs, tries to snatch her hand out of his. After her third attempt is met with him tightening his grip on her yet again, a glint of stubbornness worms its way into her eyes and she charges ahead with the kind of bullish determination that could only come from someone trying to single-handedly restore her grandfather’s sprawling empire. “I want to court you, Ben Solo,” she declares firmly, pins him with a look that’s all business. “I’d also like to marry you someday, I think, and possibly start a family with you.” 

The ringing in his ears swells into a roar. “Oh,” Ben whispers. “ _Oh_ ,” he echoes two seconds later, when he can hear his own heartbeat again and a smile takes over his face.

Rey allows the tension to seep away, and looks up at him with a smile that’s almost…  _shy_.

“Kinda feels like I should be the one courting you,” Ben muses out loud, still lost in her eyes and her smile and her  _words_ , words that hint at a possibility he’s only ever allowed himself to entertain in daydreams.

“It’s the twenty-first century, Ben,” Rey reminds him with a roll of her eyes. “A woman can do the courting–”

“No, no, it’s not that,” he hurries to assure her. “It’s just… you’rethe _Queen_ , shouldn’t I have to prove myself worthy of you or something?”

She brings one hand up to cup Ben’s cheek, curves her lips into something that makes his heart hurt in the best way possible. “You already are,” Rey murmurs. “Besides,” she adds after a beat, after the moment has settled deep into their bones, “ _I’m_ the one who has to convince you to be my consort–”

Her hand falls back down to her side, and Ben’s own grip goes slack.

Consort.

To the Queen of the Underworld.

“Oh,” he whispers in realization, and this is crueler than any dream his foolish heart could ever hope to come up with.

“If you…” Rey says shakily, closes her eyes and centers herself with a deep breath. “I want you with me, Ben, always, but if you’re so adamant that the Underworld could never be your home then…”

Ben knows a little something about conflict, fancies himself something of an expert even. Conflict is being torn in two directions before you’re even old enough to know the cardinal ones, conflict is your uncle vilifying the grandfather you never knew while a voice in your head sings his accolades, conflict is your mother telling you that you’re destined for greatness but  _no, Ben, not that way–_

Conflict is an ever-present condition of his existence, something Ben has learned to deal with the way he deals with all of the most important things in his life: avoidance, ignorance, denial. But  _this_ – Rey right in front of him, offering him her heart in one hand and his doom in the other… this cannot be denied.

Rey tips forward, falls into him and pins him against the arm of his sofa. “Think of what we could be  _together_ ,” she murmurs, nuzzling his neck as her fingers slide into his hair. “ _My_ Emperor,  _our_ empire…”

He closes his eyes, lets out a shuddery breath. “Rey,” Ben chokes out, “what you’re asking me to do… what you’re planning to do… you’re giving yourself over to the Dark, Rey. And I can’t– I  _can’t_ ,”  _don’t be like Vader, don’t ask about Vader, just like Vader, too much Vader in him,_ all his damn life a trap lying in wait and now this, the sweetest bait, the only reason he would ever have to fall but still– “I can’t follow you down that path.”

She recoils from him, pushes at his chest with a burst of energy as her eyes blaze with fury and disappointment and hurt. “I don’t have to _give_  anythingto the Dark, Ben. It’s mine, it’s always been mine to command, mine to  _control_ , not the other way around,  _never_ the other way around and if you’d just open your eyes and  _see_ –”

Years ago, days after the first time he heard his mother fretting about him and Vader and  _so much anger, Luke,_ his uncle spirited him away and imparted upon Ben his very first lesson about the Force. He’s slow to recall it now, long-forgotten words clumsy and unfamiliar on his tongue. “The Force is never  _ours_ , Rey. Light, Dark, all of it – it’s not ours to control, only ours to channel. It flows through us, its  _will_ accomplished using us,  _controlling_ us–”

Rey springs to her feet. “You are so  _scared_!” she growls, voice raised in frustration. “You think the only way to stay safe, to honor your father, is to reject all of it, to remove yourself from temptation entirely. But,” and here she softens, comes to kneel next to him and take his hands in her own, “there’s another way, Ben. If you’d just let me  _show_ you the in-between, the balance, then you’d see…”

“Balance is a myth, Rey,” he tells her as gently as possible, turns their hands so that he’s the one holding her in place now. “There are those who’ve tried, but it’s arrogance, it’s hubris to think that any of us could ever stand between Light and Dark and command them both without having to give something in return, without succumbing to one side or the other–”

“Do you think I don’t understand that?” Rey hisses, digs her nails into his palms. “Do you think I don’t know the struggle, the  _pull_? Always, always lurking in the dark, waiting for the slightest slip-up, ready to crash over you like a wave and pull you into the inky depths – do you think I don’t know the chill of a dark manacle on my ankle  _always_?”

He has never, ever seen her like this, eyes feverish with a fear, a burden, a nightmare no one has ever been able to put into words for him. “Rey, how–?”

“My grandfather was a demon, just like yours,” she begins evenly. “My grandmother was a healer, just like yours,” and this is news to him but then again she never talks about her family, about anything from before, especially not– “and my father was mortal, just like yours.”

“But that means–” Ben falters, looks at her, really  _looks_ , and thinks of Kira Ren the night they met, of the ancient darkness in her eyes and the wild energy hidden just beneath the surface. “You weren’t born a demon?”

Rey, still on her knees, shakes her head and entrusts him with another secret that could jeopardize everything she’s worked so hard to establish over the past few decades. “My mother’s powers never manifested, and my father was human.  _I_ was human too, at first.”

 _Human_. Rey, Kira Ren, would-be Empress of all the Dark Realms, was  _human_ once, something not even Ben can claim. But here she is now, and there’s only one way–

Ben’s heart aches for her, for the tragedy he knows nothing about but thinks he understands completely. “ _Rey_ ,” he whispers thickly, looks into her wide eyes and tries to picture her  _before_ , tries to picture her  _if only_. “You… you carried it too. The curse–”

“–was the  _best_ thing that ever happened to me,” Rey insists, shatters his illusions about her with no hesitation. She’s never tried to hide what she is from him, after all, never claimed to be anything less than the merciless Queen of the Underworld, an army of demons at her beck and call, an endless flood of blood on her hands–

And yet she comes to him when she’s at her most vulnerable, and digs her bare feet into grass with childlike glee, and says heartbreakingly human things like– “Until you.  _You_ , Ben… I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you. Maybe I don’t, maybe I never will. But you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I don’t want to lose you.”

He moves to join her on the floor, slides off the sofa and gets on his knees in front of her, and Rey doesn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around his waist and press their foreheads together.

“Please, Ben,” she murmurs a hair’s breadth away from his lips, so close but not close enough, “please don’t say no, not yet. Just… think about it.  _Please_.”

“I–” a lump rises in his throat, makes it impossible for him to offer her empty promises about finding a way, overcoming it all,  _to hell with Light and Dark and all of it, I just want you_ – “I’ll think about it,” Ben says, the best he can do yet not enough. Rey sighs, a tremulous little thing, and separates them.

“That’s all I ask,” she smiles, nothing like the wickedly sharp smirks of Kira or the blindingly bright grins of Rey, just a ghost of what it should be. He watches her stand, watches her smooth down her tunic and gather energy for a portal–

“Wait!” Ben stumbles to his feet, nearly falls as he lurches forward to take Rey’s hand.

“Ben?”

His heart is beating faster than it did the day he realized exactly who she was, faster than it does whenever she leans in a little too close or looks at his lips a little too long. “I… I don’t know what I think about balance,” he tells her slowly, hesitantly. “I don’t know if your way is the right way, or if any of this is even possible. I don’t know if rebuilding the empire is the right thing to do, and I don’t know if I could ever help you with that.”

“Don’t,” Rey whispers, shakes her head. “Don’t do this, you said you’d think about it first, don’t say no–”

He brings their joined hands to his lips, presses a kiss to the inside of her wrist. “I’m not sure about any of this, Rey, but I  _am_ sure that I want to be with you.”

The devil lets out a sob, and it’s the most heartbreaking, beautiful thing he’s ever heard. Her eyes shine with tears he knows she won’t let fall, and her smile is nearly a grimace as she tries to contain herself, but she lets him wrap an arm around her waist and tug her closer anyway.

“I want to be with you no matter what,” Ben sighs, leans his forehead against hers and closes his eyes. “Can that be enough, Rey? Just for now?”

Silence stretches on for two seconds, for a lifetime, for a heartbeat, for eternity–

“For now,” Rey whispers against his lips, and kisses him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there’s devil!Rey, I hope you guys are as drawn to her as I am.
> 
> If she seems all over the place... there’s a reason for that, I promise, and I can’t wait for you guys (and Ben!) to find out what it is. Which you will, soon enough, because the third and final chapter will be posted tomorrow!
> 
> Until then, thank you so much for reading, I hope you liked it, and Happy Halloween! As always, please don’t hesitate to leave a comment!


	3. Ben's Descent to the Underworld

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _she's got me so blind I can't see_  
>  _that she's a black magic woman_  
>  _and she's tryin' to make a devil outta me_  
>  \- _Black Magic Woman_ , Fleetwood Mac

“Let’s just run away,” Ben suggests one morning, tracing idle circles into Rey’s lower back as the sun rises. It’s easier, sometimes, to entertain these outlandish scenarios than it is to grapple with the fact that even after a year of intensive research, he’s no closer to finding a viable solution than he was before. “We could leave it all behind, forget about the Force, move to a crowded mortal city where no one would ever find us…”

Rey shifts in his arms, folds her hands over his heart and rests her chin on top of her fingers. “Ben,” she sighs, the slightest hint of exasperation bleeding through. “You hate big cities.”

“I’d like them better if you were with me, I think,” he confesses easily, pictures the two of them in a tiny apartment overlooking a crowded city, space-saving charms on every available surface to house his books and her weapons; a home that’s entirely, seamlessly _them_.

“Besides,” Rey adds, never one to get caught up in impossible daydreams, “I can’t just leave. Who’d rule the Underworld? Who’d watch over my knights?”

Ben tries unsuccessfully to blow a piece of hair out of his face, and Rey just laughs after his third attempt, reaches up to brush the errant lock aside herself. “Does the Underworld even need ruling?” he asks, catches her hand before it can retreat and gently angles it so that he can press a kiss to her inner wrist. “I thought Darksiders thrive on chaos and disorder.”

Rey scoffs. “It’s all fun and games until a dispute goes on for two centuries with no end in sight because you don’t have any semblance of order or authority,” she explains. “The Underworld appreciates chaos, but even we don’t want to live in anarchy. Even that lawless cult land of your grandfather’s would happily welcome proper leadership.”

Proper leadership, as far as Mustafar is concerned, would mean nothing less than Ben succumbing to the curse his grandfather doomed him to and taking up Vader’s old mantle. Rey likes to remind him of that sometimes, to muse out loud how easy it’d be to unify the empire if he were by her side. It’s not a discussion he’d like to get into right now, so he quickly redirects the conversation before she can say something predictable.

“What about your knights? Can’t they look out for themselves?” he asks with a slight frown.

“The three of them together could probably take even _me_ down,” Rey declares proudly before she goes on to lament, “but that won’t keep everyone else from calling them knock-offs and fakes.”

“Knock-off demons?” Ben echoes incredulously. “Since when are _those_ a thing?”

Rey scowls, still resting on top of his chest. “They’re _not_ ,” she insists. “Sure, the knights were human when I found them, but I turned them into demons just like any other once they pledged their fealty to me. This shouldn’t even be an issue, especially not after all these decades.”

It’s clearly a sensitive topic, but Ben can’t help himself. “Sweetheart… you can’t just turn humans into demons.”

“Technically no, you can’t,” Rey concedes. “But once someone swears their allegiance to me I can do whatever I want, like extend their lifespans and imbue them with powers so that they’re demons in everything but blood. The rest of the Underworld is just pissed that I chose my own knights rather than picking from the noble houses.”

She admits to it so casually, making her knights long-lived and nearly invincible, as if that’s a common thing to do, as if that’s in any way an easy thing to do. In all his studies, Ben has only come across one instance of such a thing, when an ancestor of Rey’s fell for a mortal and tried her best to turn him into a worthy consort.

When her intended backed out at the last minute, too scared to go through with it after all, the jilted Queen killed him in a fit of rage and betrayal. It’s a depressingly common end for royal consorts in Rey’s family according to historical records, but the one time he found the nerve to broach the subject with her Rey had laughed her family’s messy love life off as a rumor and assured him that she would _never_ hurt him.

“So without you around, you think they’ll–”

A sharp knock interrupts them, cuts into their peaceful early-morning silence with all the chilling precision of Rey’s knife-throwing. Ben tenses, and Rey immediately draws herself upright and growls at the open bedroom door, through which the front door is barely visible.

“I take it you weren’t expecting anyone?” she asks as the both of them get dressed, Ben pulling on last night’s tee shirt and sweatpants while Rey plucks a thick dressing robe of black velvet out of thin air. It’s a far cry from her usual morning attire – literally the shirt off Ben’s back, whenever he’s foolish enough to put one on – but then again, they’ve never had to deal with the possibility of someone tracking him down.

“Not at all,” Ben confirms as they both exit the bedroom, Rey taking the lead. He stops her in the living room with a hand around her wrist. “Stay here? Maybe it’s just someone asking for directions. Or one of those door-to-door salesmen.”

“I highly doubt even one of those people would be dedicated enough to trek all the way out here,” Rey frowns. “But okay, I’ll wait. The second something goes wrong though–”

“You can go all demon queen on them,” he assures her, leans in for a quick kiss before he proceeds to the front door alone. In all his years at Varykino, Ben has never once received a visitor. Even when the occasional lucky guess leads someone to his grandmother’s estate, the abandoned house is usually enough to send them away; no one would ever think to look for him in the isolated caretaker’s cottage, after all.

He curls his fingers around the doorknob with a fair amount of trepidation, and turns to shoot Rey a reassuring look over his shoulder before he finally opens the door to find–

“I do so hate it when Phasma is right,” a familiar redhead huffs upon catching sight of him.

“Hux?” Ben blurts out incredulously, blinking twice to make sure he isn’t hallucinating. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Oh, I was just in the neighborhood, thought I’d stop by for tea–” Hux says airily before he shoots Ben a scowl. “I’m looking for you, obviously! Twenty-seven goddamn years, Solo. We’ve looked everywhere for you, even placed a reversal charm on that crumbling house up the hill to see if maybe you’d just cloaked yourself. Phas had to go through the original blueprints for this place before she realized where you might be hiding out.”

Ben sighs. “She’s always been sharp,” he concedes before fixing his old acquaintance with a wary look. “Why all the effort, though? Don’t tell me you missed me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Hux snaps even as a grin tugs on the corner of his mouth. “When we heard that you’d left Skywalker for good, Phas and I thought that maybe you might have changed your mind. But I guess…” he gestures at the cottage, at the life and the choices it represents. Even stubborn, determined Hux knows what it means for twenty-seven years to have gone by without Ben contacting him.

“The answer’s still no, Armitage,” he confirms, though he tries to be polite about it. Hux and Phasma are just trying to be good friends, in their own odd way. But Ben has always known that the belonging he seeks won’t come from joining their Dark coven; now that he’s actually found that belonging, he’s less inclined than ever to join them.

Hux gives him a rueful smile. “Suppose I saw that one coming. But if an old friend were to ask for a cup of tea before he hits the road?”

Under any other circumstances, Ben would’ve flung his door wide open and invited the man in. After all, they actually _were_ friends, at some point. In many ways, Hux might even have been the first friend Ben ever had – and the only one, up until Rey. But with Rey in the picture, _and_ in his living room…

Before he can come up with an excuse, the cause of his hesitation snakes her arms around his waist from behind and presses her cheek to his shoulder. “Aren’t you going to invite him in, beloved? He asked so nicely.”

It’s almost comical, the way Hux immediately turns pale as death and drops down to one knee. “Your Majesty!” he cries. “I apologize, I did not know–”

“How could you have?” Rey asks with a dismissive wave of her hand, steps around Ben to look down at Hux. “Rise, Armitage. This isn’t court.”

Ben watches Hux hesitantly straighten up, takes note of the way he doesn’t quite meet Rey’s eyes as he thanks her. “You two know each other?” he asks, glancing between the two of them.

“The First Coven attends court every once in a while,” Rey shrugs. “And his father served Sidious, back in the day.” It’s an interesting bit of information, but nothing Ben didn’t know before. More than anything, it’s a subtle reminder for him to refer to her by her regnal name while they’re in the presence of company just as she does for her grandfather. He catches Rey’s eye and nods, just once, to acknowledge her message.

Rey turns to Hux. “Come in, then. I was just about to brew a pot of nightshade tea, and it’s always too much for one person. Ben here refuses to even try it,” she says with an exaggerated frown and bumps his shoulder teasingly.

“For the last time, it’s _poison_ –” Ben reminds her.

“–which your body is perfectly capable of handling, _Skywalker_ ,” Rey points out before she disappears back into the house. She’s oddly convinced that he’s inherited his grandfather’s demonic physiology even though he hasn’t triggered the curse, but Ben’s not about to poison himself just to prove her wrong.

He turns to Hux with a resigned look, that _what are you gonna do?_ half-smile his father used to wear whenever his mother got her way and Han was expected to just go along with it.

Hux returns the look with the wide eyes of someone who’s just woken up to find a dozen ghosts hovering at the foot of his bed. “What in the name of Andeddu?” he whisper-hisses. “Since when do you know _Kira Ren_?”

“It’s complicated,” Ben shrugs, giving Hux a default answer while he tries to come up with a better one. A year together but they’ve never actually _been_ together in front of anyone else, which means that thus far he hasn’t had to explain the fact that he’s dating the devil.

“I’d say,” Hux snorts delicately, shoulders his way past Ben and watches as he shuts the door. “What the hell is even going on here?”

“Oh,” Rey emerges from the kitchen with a tray floating after her, and out of the corner of his eye he sees Hux blanch at the realization that she’s overheard their conversation. _Show-off,_ Ben mouths fondly at her as she gestures for them to come sit in the living area. “I’ve recently started courting your friend here,” she announces casually, settling into the sofa with Ben while Hux takes the armchair. “Ben would make a strong King, don’t you think, Armitage?” Rey asks sweetly as she hands their guest a cup of tea.

Hux bows his head in thanks. “Certainly, Your Majesty,” he agrees immediately.

“And a handsome one too,” Rey sighs fondly as she raises a hand to caress Ben’s jaw, and he catches a glimmer of mischief in her eyes before she turns back to Hux. “We haven’t had a handsome King in centuries.”

The _look_ on Hux’s face when he realizes she expects him to respond to that makes Ben snort into his teacup. The redhead clears his throat – twice – and begins with a shaky, “Um…”

It’s amusing, but Hux is beginning to turn as red as his hair, and only seems to get more nervous when Rey leans forward with interest. “Kira,” Ben says firmly, quietly.

“Oh, all right, I’ll stop teasing,” she grins, tosses her head back in that Kira Ren laugh that’s nothing like Rey’s. It’s somehow evaded him up until this very moment, the realization of how differently Rey is carrying herself around outside company, around a subject of hers. “So, Armitage, will we be seeing you at court this fortnight?”

Hux’s relief at the change in conversation lasts for all of five seconds. “Most likely, Your Majesty,” he grimaces. “We’ve been having some trouble with the Hutt tribe again–”

“Jabba?” Rey interrupts, her voice deceptively even. He knows for a fact that she detests the greedy Hutt and his network of criminals, and has a plan in the works to get rid of them eventually without collapsing the Underworld’s trade economy, but Rey keeps that admirably under wraps as she calmly addresses Hux. “Why wait until court, now that you and I are both here to speak of it? I’ll send a knight to check on the situation,” she decides. “Remind me, Armitage: you and Osado Ren get along well, don’t you?”

“We…” Hux does his best to hide his disdain, but Ben knows him well enough to see through his poor attempt at a mask. “We can be _civil_ , Your Majesty.”

Rey can see through him too, if the way her shoulders shake is any indication. “No, you most absolutely can’t,” she titters. “I can’t tell who’s worse, the two of you or Phasma and Ẹsan. I’ll send Tiêc then, shall I?”

A quiet sigh of relief escapes Hux. “Her Majesty is very considerate,” he says deferentially, looking down at his teacup.

“See?” Rey nudges Ben’s shoulder with a grin. “I told you my subjects love me.”

He’s struck by the urge to kiss her forehead, but they’ve never really discussed the protocol for affection in front of her subjects. Ben gives her a fond smile instead. “Never doubted it, sweet–”

A sharp hiss from her lips silences him immediately, and both he and Hux watch on in concern as Rey sets her cup down on the coffee table with a clatter. She gets to her feet with a thunderous expression on her face, the kind that reminds him of just who she really is.

“What is it?” Ben asks softly.

When she turns to him, her scowl untwists itself and turns into a milder frown instead. “My knights,” Rey tells him. “They’ve found something.” She leans down briefly, presses a chaste kiss to his lips. “I’ll be back later.”

To Hux she says, “It was nice to see you, Armitage,” and with that, Rey disappears.

“So…” Ben mumbles after a while, when the lingering smoke of Rey’s transportation has finally dissipated. “That was weird.”

“You’re telling me,” Hux snorts, instantly at ease now that his Queen is no longer present. “I’d always heard that she’s a different person around her knights, but I never expected to actually see it. I mean, she laughed!” he exclaims, throwing one hand up for emphasis. “ _Kira Ren_ laughed, and it wasn’t cruel!”

Ben can’t help the frown that tugs at his lips. “I was actually talking about you being a complete suck-up, but what do you mean?”

“You’d be a suck-up too if you’d ever seen her in her element,” the redhead huffs defensively. “I once watched her hang a man on a butcher’s hook and slowly tear him apart over the course of three days.”

Nausea rises to the back of his throat even as his mind automatically rejects this information. He flinches, just the slightest bit, and Hux instantly realizes what he’s done.

“She had her reasons,” he hurries to explain. “The man had been selling children into sexual slavery.”

“Oh,” Ben says softly, relaxing shoulders that he hadn’t even realized he’d tensed. This sounds more like his Rey, more like the Kira Ren who spends her free time hunting down targets like the murderer from the night they met.

Hux sets his tea down, leans forward. “She’s not a monster, Ben,” he says gently.

“I never said she was.”

“I know,” Hux acknowledges, holds his palms up in a wordless request for peace. “But I also know that your family hasn’t left you with the best impression of us Darksiders,” he adds. “Kira Ren isn’t like the others before her, Ben. She can be brutal, yes, but never unfairly so. She’s a good Queen.”

Ben nods. And then, because Hux knows him well enough to know that he needed to hear that, because Hux probably knows him better than anyone else aside from Rey, he asks, “Do you think it can work? Me and her?”

Hux considers it for a moment. “As odd as it’ll be to call you my King,” he grimaces briefly before settling into a rare genuine smile, “I can see it, the two of you.”

The thing is, Ben’s starting to see it too.

And it’s more terrifying than anything he’s ever faced before.

 

* * *

 

A lot of things about Hux’s visit stay with Ben, but none more so than the confirmation that Rey really does act like a completely different person around him. He’d had his suspicions before, in the early days of their friendship when he first noticed her shedding Kira Ren’s sharp smiles and veiled threats to reveal something infinitely softer and more genuine, but now the concrete knowledge keeps him up at night while she sleeps in his arms.

And with it, a question: which one is the _real_ her?

Ben keeps his mouth shut for two months, tells himself that he’s overthinking things and confronting Rey on this would just hurt her. It’s a good enough strategy, until she comes back from a week-long campaign one night with ancient chaos in her amber eyes and electrifying bloodlust humming in her veins.

“Rhelg,” she grins triumphantly before he even asks, and staggers into his arms. Her armor is made entirely of dragon scales, impenetrable by both weapons and spells, and it scrapes against his palms when he wraps his arms around her. “And Ziost, too.”

They’re significant wins, symbolic takings that will definitely expedite her reunification efforts, but Ben can’t focus on anything other than the smell of blood clinging to her and the shadow of death curled around her Force signature. With his chin resting on the crown of her head and his lips tingling from her static-charged hair, he asks, “Is this who you really are?”

Rey tenses in his arms, backs away to look up at him. “Ben?” she questions, her eyes wide and confused but still ringed with amber, the same amber that flashes in her eyes when she’s chasing her pleasure in wild abandon, when she guides him down to where she wants him with hands so tight around his head he thinks they might crush his skull, when she digs her nails into his shoulder until blood runs down his chest as she moves above him. After, she likes to press gentle kisses of wordless apology to his bloodied shoulders before she looks up at him, and every single time without fail he catches her licking a drop of his blood off her lips as the amber in her eyes recedes and returns her to him.

He thinks of the shiver that runs down his spine whenever that happens, and it gives him the strength to continue. “To me you’re Rey, you’ve been Rey since almost the start. But around Hux and on the battlefield and sometimes even with me, you become a completely different person. You become the person I met that first night, the one I thought for sure was going to kill me the second she tracked me down again.”

“So I’m asking you,” Ben pauses, takes a deep breath to steady himself even as his heart weakens at the sight of Rey’s trembling lower lip. “I’m asking you, which one is the real you? My Rey, or Kira Ren?”

His heart feels like it might stop when Rey extricates herself from his arms and hops up on his kitchen counter the way she did that first sunny afternoon. “I was twenty-eight,” she says quietly, after worrying her lip for a bit, “when Snoke first appeared to me.”

“He’d been in my head for much longer than that, of course,” Rey informs him with a slight huff, a bitter half-laugh. “Since I was a baby, practically. When my mother was born, Palpatine took one look at her and knew she’d never manifest. When I was born, my grandmother took one look at me and knew I’d be everything Palpatine could’ve ever wanted in a daughter. And I’ve never been able to figure out, in the century since, whether that darkness she felt was me or Snoke.”

Ben hesitates, decides to step closer in a show of support but doesn’t reach out to touch her. “But I thought your grandmother–”

“–died when I was still a baby, yes. But she left her diaries behind, and I guess even my desperate alcoholic parents knew better than to try and pawn off a witch’s memoirs. When my parents abandoned me, I knew nothing about my family. Everything I knew about myself, about the voices in my head and the strange things I could do, I learned from my grandmother’s diaries,” Rey admits quietly, as if that’s something to be ashamed about. Compared to him, compared to the legacy drilled into his head before he could even string a sentence together, he sees why she might feel that way.

“So when I finally snapped, when I claimed my first kill and triggered the curse, what Snoke found was a clueless, scared child instead of the formidable heir he’d been hoping to turn against Palpatine. He ran with it anyway – he was always such a desperate, _grasping_ man –,” she mutters darkly, lips curling in disgust, “and presented me to his troops as the future Queen. And there was this _weight_ – Snoke’s expectations of me, a thousand demons just staring at me – I just… I panicked. I took all the worst things I’d read about demons in my grandmother’s diaries, all the ugliest things people in Jakku whispered about Darksiders, and I turned all of it into Kira Ren, into the demon queen they wanted.”

Rey looks up at him, holds out a hand beseechingly, and he immediately reaches for her. “ _That_ ’s what Kira Ren is,” she whispers, leans forward to rest her head against his chest with a shaky breath. “Rey… I never got a chance to know her, before. I was six when my parents disappeared, and something in me just knew that they were never coming back. My father never cared, not really, and in my grandmother’s diaries I’d read all about the voices in my mother’s head, the ones that overwhelmed her and drove her out of her mind because she didn’t have the power to temper them. My grandmother knew that her daughter wouldn’t survive for long, even with all of the alcohol in the world to drown out the voices. It doesn’t matter what happened to my father; even if my mother was the only one to die, he would never have come back for me anyway.”

There’s a muffled sniff against his shirt, and Ben’s free hand, the one not holding hers for dear life, immediately wraps around her waist and pulls her closer. Rey goes quiet after that, but he can feel the way his shirt grows damp with her tears, the way she shudders in his arms.

It feels like hours pass before she pulls away and wipes at her cheeks. “I became what I had to be in order to survive. There was no _Rey_ , there was only the girl who scavenged and traded, the girl whose only friends were the voices in her head. After I killed Snoke and took the throne and met my knights, that changed a bit. But it wasn’t until I met _you_ , Ben,” she drops her voice into an awed murmur, cradles his jaw in her hand like the most precious thing, “that I discovered who I really am, as Rey. Before this I didn’t know my favorite food, and I didn’t know the way I curl around someone in my sleep, and I didn’t know all the little things that make me happier than any victory ever could. Everything about Kira Ren I came up with, I _chose_. Everything about Rey I’ve discovered with you, as if she was living in me my whole life just waiting until it was safe for her to appear. And I think…” Rey falters, offers him a hesitant, hopeful little smile, “I think that makes her the real me.”

Ben has made many mistakes in his life. Asking Rey to define herself, to retread the painful path of her past in order to prove herself to him, has got to be the absolute worst one. “I think so too, sweetheart,” he whispers as he leans in to press their foreheads together, remorse weighing heavy on his heart and demanding amends. “No, I _know_ so. I know the real you, and I love you more than words could ever say.”

The first time he told her he loved her was months ago, nearly a year now. In the time since he’s said it hundreds, if not thousands of times, but Rey looks at him now as if it’s the first time all over again and her eyes shine with adoration and joy.

“I love you too,” she smiles through tears, and brings him down for a kiss. It’s tender even as she grips his hair so hard he thinks she’ll rip chunks of it out, even as he pulls at her armor until his palms are covered in scratches from the scales. Rey laughs against his lips when he hisses in pain, pulls back and looks him in the eye as she waves her hand over the front of her suit to materialize a hidden zipper.

The armor, priceless and irreplaceable, slinks to the ground and remains forgotten in his kitchen until much, much later that night, when the sweat on their bodies has cooled and they’re finally capable of coherent thought again.

“I should store it,” Rey says half-heartedly after a good laugh over the realization of her priceless suit’s whereabouts. She makes no move to get out of bed though, and Ben deters her from doing so by curling an arm around her waist.

“So, Rhelg _and_ Ziost,” he muses, and leans down to press a kiss to her temple. “Congratulations, my Queen.”

Rey peers up at him from where she’s using his shoulder as a pillow. “Empress, soon,” she reminds him with a pleased little smirk, and Ben tries to hide his trepidation at that but something – his eyes, probably, it’s always his damn eyes – must give him away, because Rey’s smirk flattens into a mildly displeased look.

“Beloved,” she sighs, props herself up with one hand braced on the mattress and her palm curved around her cheek. “I don’t know what more I can say about this to make you change your mind.”

“I don’t think you _can_ ,” Ben murmurs gently, reluctant to get into this again. It’s still the only real argument they ever have, the only thing they can never agree on. And it’s the one thing standing in the way of their life together. “It’s just… it’s an empire, Rey. And I love you, and I trust you, but every single Dark empire in history has turned out the same way.”

“But who says it has to be Dark?” Rey challenges him, pulls herself up so that she’s sitting cross-legged and staring down at him. “I _told_ you, Ben: balance. And I know,” she adds before he can voice his skepticism once again, “I _know_ I’m more Dark than Light, that I don’t have the capacity for goodness in me.”

“Rey, no–”

She shakes her head at him, smiles almost sadly. “It’s not in my blood, Ben – the same way that Darkness _is_. And that means that I can control the Dark, that I can keep it in check and make sure it doesn’t overwhelm the Light. That’s what I’m trying to do,” Rey admits for the very first time, and he barely even catches what she says next, too surprised by this revelation to process anything else. “That’s the best I can do.”

He surges up to match her position, to get a better look at her. “Why didn’t you– Rey, you never told me that that’s– if I had known–”

“Would it really have changed anything?” she asks plainly.

“Well, I thought you were reviving your grandfather’s empire to amass untold Dark power and you’re telling me you’re doing it to _contain_ Darkness instead so yes, Rey, it changes _everything_!”

“Not everything, Ben,” Rey says softly, shakes her head again with that sad smile he’s starting to hate. It’s _wrong_ on her, resignation on a woman who burns so brightly and fights so fiercely. “I’m still reunifying the empire. I’m still asking you to rule with me. I’m still asking you to become a demon with me, and I know, I know better than anyone else that that doesn’t necessarily mean turning Dark, but realistically…” she shrugs, and it’s like a jolt to his system, to hear the terms of their future laid out so clearly and bluntly.

They sound so simple, these things that she asks of him in return for a lifetime of love, and yet... “Rey,” he rasps, his chest tight with indecision and conflict. “Rey, I…”

Rey sighs and curls up by his side again, presses her ear to his heart as she’s taken to doing in the last few months. “Let’s just go to sleep, Ben.”

She wraps herself around him, one hand across his middle and her leg splayed across both of his, and nestles deeper into him.

It’s been a long day, a stressful day. That’s the only possible explanation for why the idea of giving in to her terms seems less daunting now than ever before. In the morning, it’ll feel impossible again and there’ll still be no end in sight to their situation.

“Good night, sweetheart.”

 

* * *

 

In the morning, it doesn’t feel impossible.

A week later, he starts considering the logistics of it all, of leaving behind his life and triggering the curse and ruling by Rey’s side. The curse weighs on him heaviest of all, having struggled against it all his life, and even the knowledge that Rey could probably direct him to some scum of the earth who would more than deserve to meet their end doesn’t make the idea of spilling blood any easier to stomach.

But a month later she starts struggling and kicking in bed, cries and begs not to be left alone until he finally manages to wake her, and as she shakes in his arms for the rest of the night Ben decides that there’s nothing, absolutely _nothing_ , that can stand between the two of them, that can stand in the way of his promise that she’ll never be alone again.

During a rare morning alone, Ben picks up a framed picture of his parents and runs his thumb over Han’s preserved memory. “I’m sorry,” he says, struggling to get the words past the lump in his throat. “I know this isn’t what you wanted for me, but you always believed me when I said there was another way. I think this is that way, Dad. I think… I think there could be balance, for once.”

Maybe Han would’ve sighed heavily, and maybe he would’ve grumbled under his breath for a bit, but at the end of the day Ben likes to believe that he would’ve reached out, placed a hand on his son’s shoulder and encouraged him to do something, _anything_ to end this stupid war between his mother’s people. And Rey’s idea of preserving the Light from afar without meddling in it, of keeping the Dark prosperous without strengthening it? It might be just the thing.

His mother and his uncle won’t understand, might never understand. But as long as he can look at this picture of his father and feel at peace with the memory of Han’s dying wish, Ben is okay with that.

“Hey,” he says two days later, smiles when Rey looks up at him while milk drips from her spoonful of cereal. “We spend all of our time here, in my place.” It’s not just his place anymore, hasn’t been for a while now really, but still. “I was thinking maybe we should go to your home, today.”

Rey drops her spoon back into the bowl, and neither of them notice the way milk splatters over the rim and splashes everywhere. “Ben,” she breathes, her smile blinding. “Really? You’re ready to visit Korriban?”

It’s not so much a visit as it is a formality, a final inspection before he commits to a decision he’s already made. But he can’t let her know that just yet, just as he doesn’t let her know about the velvet drawstring pouch in the inner pocket of his jacket and the ring he intends to have on her finger by the end of the day.

“Yeah, I am,” Ben tells her, opens his arms just in time for her to barrel into him and shower kisses on every part of him that she can reach.

“Can we go now?” Rey asks, her eyes wide and bright with joy and anticipation. “There’s so much I want to show you, and I want you to meet my knights, and – oh, the garden, I really want you to see the garden–”

He laughs softly at her excitement, stands up with Rey still clinging to his neck. “Yes, sweetheart. We can go now.”

It’s been years, _decades_ , since he last transported, and even then it was always his uncle casting the spell and him tagging along for the ride. It’s much the same this time, since Rey is the one who knows where they’re going, but with her all of the intense preparations and careful circles are replaced by simply taking her hand, closing his eyes, and trusting her.

Between one breath and the next Rey steps between worlds and guides him to her home, and when he opens his eyes they’re in the middle of a garden that could only be hers. Flowers bloom everywhere in a wild riot of life and thick green vines crawl over crumbling structures, beautiful and wild and the closest visual representation anyone will ever get to Rey’s chaotic, blinding, pulsing Force signature. She’s changed clothes too, in that blink of an eye between realms, traded his shirt for the black leather look she's always in when she comes home from holding court, but for once his eyes aren’t drawn to her.

“Rey, this is…”

She smiles, laces their fingers together and leads him down a path marked by nothing but telltale trampled grass. “Part of my grandmother’s healer abilities was the power to coax any flower or herb she needed to life. Sometimes,” Rey says quietly as she runs her fingers through a wine-red flower with petals like velvet, “I wonder if maybe I would have been a nature witch, had that path been available to me.”

Sometimes Ben wonders too, tries to imagine what Rey’s life would’ve been like if she hadn’t been claimed by her grandfather’s blood the second she was born. Would they have met, if she’d grown up to become a witch instead? Would she still have the Force, without Palpatine’s blood in her veins? Would they have been married by now, if they were both just practitioners with no moral conundrums standing in their way?

Would he trade everything they’ve shared in the past two years for even the tiniest shot at that life instead?

“I grew up in a barren wasteland instead,” Rey continues, “where the last of the trees succumbed to heat long before I was born and even attempts to grow crabgrass failed. So the minute I found out that all of this was mine,” she sweeps her arm in a wide arc, encompasses as far as the eye can see, “I knew immediately what I wanted to do with this land.”

“It’s beautiful,” Ben assures her, letting his free hand drag past flowers and leaves and little bushes heavy with berries.

Rey’s lips twitch with a little self-conscious smile. “Unusual for a demon queen, I know,” she says almost sheepishly before she comes to an abrupt halt and looks up at him. “But I wanted to show you that there’s life here, Ben. I could give you life and love and light here, even in the most unexpected places, if you–”

“Your Majesty!” a voice hollers in the distance. “Majesty!” it cries again, grows closer until both Ben and Rey turn around to find a lower-ranking demon sprinting across the garden to reach them.

“ _What_?!” Rey growls as the demon reaches them, and Ben can’t tell if he shrinks back because of the ice in Rey’s voice or the heat in her glare.

“F-f-forgive me, M-Majesty,” the newcomer stammers, keeping a safe distance between himself and his Queen. “But you asked to be informed when your knights return–”

Rey blinks. “Oh,” she murmurs. “I did, didn’t I?” She turns to Ben then, waves at the demon. “Beloved, this is my assistant, Mitaka.”

Mitaka falls into a bow so deep and abrupt that Ben nearly winces for his bones. “My lord.”

“Um,” Ben turns to Rey with a helpless little look, clears his throat and awkwardly waves the man up. “Uh, you don’t have to do that.”

The little demon looks scandalized, shocked into such a catatonic state that he doesn’t even react when Rey takes Ben’s hand and tugs him a few feet away. “I’m so sorry,” she tells him with an apologetic little smile. “This is pretty urgent. Do you mind?”

Ben smiles, angles himself so that Mitaka can’t see him tucking a lock of hair behind Rey’s ear. “Sweetheart, you’re the Queen here,” he reminds her. “Go do what you have to do.”

“I’ll try to be quick,” Rey promises and, apparently not sharing his qualms about her subjects seeing her in an affectionate relationship, tugs him down by his collar to kiss him. It’s rougher than usual, admittedly, and to an outsider he probably looks completely lost to her will as she pulls on his hair to adjust the angle to her liking. When she breaks away and licks her lips with a smirk, Ben’s almost reminded of that first night when she stole a drop of his blood. “In the meantime,” Rey raises her voice so that it carries to her assistant, “Mitaka will show you around.”

“Oh,” Ben turns to the other demon. “That’s not necessar–”

“It would be an honor, my lord,” Mitaka says, dropping quickly into another bow. Ben turns to look at Rey, clueless and uncomfortable.

“Might as well get used to it, just in case,” she shrugs, a satisfied little gleam in her eyes. “Osado should be around the East Wing. Maybe you could meet him?” her voice is a little tentative, a little hopeful, and Ben knows how much it’ll mean to her for him to meet one of her knights.

“Sure,” he nods with an easy smile. “That’d be nice.”

Rey beams at him and it’s so at odds with their surroundings, with the persona he was expecting from her in her realm, that it sets him completely at ease. Whatever fears he’d harbored about Rey, about her and their relationship changing once they’re here, seem so ridiculous now. He’s struck by the impulse to ask her right now, but Osado Ren is something of an older brother to her, based on her stories, and Ben figures in lieu of any father figures he should at least make his intentions known to the knight, scope out his reaction to both the engagement and Ben’s eventual ascension.

Still, he can’t help but wince a bit at the way she barks orders at Mitaka as the lower demon flinches and stammers his way through the interaction. But Rey had warned him, hadn’t she? Hierarchy is everything in the Underworld, and the pecking order must always be painfully clear.

“I’ll see you soon, beloved,” Rey smiles as she slinks past him, her exchange with Mitaka apparently done. In this, in the way she carries herself around her subjects, she’s more Kira Ren than Rey. But as Ben watches the sauntering gait of her retreating form, head held proudly high and shoulders deceptively loose, he finds that he’s not too bothered by that.

“M-my lord,” Mitaka stammers behind him, and when Ben turns he indicates the opposite direction. “Shall we?”

“Yeah, sure,” Ben shrugs and allows himself to be led away. He considers Mitaka for a bit, wonders if now would be a good time to try and get some information, but the poor demon looks jumpy as all hell. Besides, it feels dishonest, to ask around about Rey and her reign behind her back when he’s already decided that he loves and accepts her no matter what.

So they walk in silence, save for Mitaka’s occasional attempts to play tour guide by pointing out noteworthy structures and figures in their path. What feels like minutes but also hours later finds them climbing up the front steps of a looming structure that bears a passing resemblance to the old mansions that house his mother’s Light Council, the only major differences being the color of the façade and the figures carved into the black marble pillars.

Mitaka waves the front doors open with a sweeping gesture and presents the building to him. “The East Wing,” he announces. “Home to Her Majesty’s collections.”

Ben grins to himself. Of course Rey would arrange for him to be brought to her museum-slash-library. “She knows me too well,” he murmurs under his breath as Mitaka crosses to the far end of the hall littered with relics in order to light a fire. The flames crawl rapidly through a network of glass tubes suspended from the ceiling, and soon the whole hall is lit by firelight.

“Sir Ren shall join you momentarily,” Mitaka says, and after another painfully deep bow he closes the doors behind Ben and leaves him to his own devices. Ben takes the opportunity to explore the area, all curved onyx stands and dome-shaped glass cases. A closer inspection finds gold plaques attached to each stand and varying forms of documents contained within the glass cases, but none of the descriptions or parchments are written in any language he’s ever seen.

He’s just stumbled upon the presumable crown jewel of the collection – housed in the center of the hall, on a stand taller and larger than any other, with a description that appears to writhe on its plaque – when the great doors swing open once more.

“Ben!” Osado Ren greets him jovially, instantly recognizable from Rey’s descriptions and the black leather armor he wears, Rey’s sigil burned into the breastplate. “It’s so good to finally meet you.”

Osado clamps his hands on either side of Ben’s arms, even though he has to stretch quite a bit to do so, and this close Ben can see the lines on his face that speak of the challenging human existence he’d suffered through before the loss of his love and the senselessness of her death had led him to invoke Rey and bargain with her. “Oh,” Ben mumbles as Osado releases him and takes a step back. “Re– Kira told you my name.” It’s an odd thing to be worried about, after a lifetime of everyone knowing his name, but he figures it’s more or less time to start.

“She’s Rey to us,” the knight assures him. “And you have nothing to worry about – we’re all family here, after all.”

“Family?” Ben echoes curiously. He’s heard Rey apply the term to her knights, and has no doubt that they feel the same way about her, but him?

“Well, Rey extended her home, her care, and her name to us when we had nothing, so yes,” Osado shrugs. “And you’re family to her, which makes us family as well. But,” he pauses, offers Ben a genuine smile, “if it makes you feel better, my real name is Poe. Poe Dameron. There, now we’re even.”

“Um, sure… Poe,” he says hesitantly, but the ever-present smile on the knight’s face remains firmly in place despite the use of his first name. Poe it is, then.

“So, what do we have here?” the knight asks, stepping around him to look at the piece he was studying. As if the plaque itself weren’t unusual enough, the document appears to be carved on a slab of marble rather than written on parchment or vellum like the rest of the collection, and the letters have been filled in with gold to match the veins in the marble. Ben can’t deny that he’s curious, and Poe seems prepared to take on the role of curator.

“Oh, it’s the prophecy! Figures that you’d be drawn to it,” he tells Ben with a knowing smile that makes no sense whatsoever.

“Right, the prophecy,” Ben nods, steps closer. “But what does this say, exactly? I don’t think I’ve ever seen this writing.” A novelty for him, considering all the dead languages his uncle had him study during his earliest years as a mage.

Poe shrugs. “Well, it’s ancient. Only a few of us still know how to read it, and it’s not exactly a skill you can learn,” he explains. “You can only decipher it with Rey’s blessing – which, of course, you’ll get as soon as you two finally make things official.”

The ring in his pocket feels like it weighs a ton. Maybe now would be a good time to talk to Poe about it; he’s not going to ask for permission – Rey is the Queen, after all – but it’d be reassuring to know that the closest thing she has to family is all right with him joining them.

Before he can say anything though, Poe points at the plaque; Ben swears he hears a faint hissing sound when the knight’s hand gets a little too close, and for a second there the writhing turns into the kind of shaking he associates with a provoked snake. Poe chuckles to himself, moves his hand a safe distance away, and the words go back to their endless cycle, almost like an Ouroboros trapped in the form of letters.

“ _The Eternal Reign of Kira and Kylo Ren,”_ Poe announces grandly, and playfully elbows Ben as he stage-whispers, “That’s you!”

“Right,” Ben feels more than hears himself murmur, a faint ringing taking up residence in his ears as Poe goes on to describe the contents of the prophecy itself.

“Previous reigns have never lasted longer than five hundred years – the Dark has a habit of consuming itself, self-imploding, plus there’s no shortage of backstabbing and coups, of course,” Poe explains. “But from the very beginning the prophecy has spoken of a couple, both of royal Dark blood in their own rights, neither born in the Dark but both born to the Dark. Sound familiar?”

“Um, yeah,” he forces himself to say, just so that Poe will keep going.

“Apart the two of them are already more powerful than any previous Dark monarch, but together they will be unrivaled in all the universe, their rule secured for millennia to come. You know,” Poe turns back to him, having apparently summarized the whole prophecy to his satisfaction, “for the longest time everyone believed this prophecy was bullshit. It’s been here since almost the beginning, and no one had ever come close to fulfilling it. Even when Rey took the throne and was anointed Kira Ren, no one thought she’d find her Kylo – no one except Rey, anyway. She just _knew_ you were out there, said she could feel it the day you were born and has been waiting every day since.”

_I knew Vader had a grandson, but I never bothered looking into it._

_I never saw you coming, Ben Solo. You’re the best surprise that’s ever happened to me._

_In a way, we have that tourist killer of yours to thank. Who knows if our paths would ever have crossed otherwise?_

_The day you were born_ , Poe says, and Ben thinks he’s going to be sick.

“Hey,” Poe frowns, concern lining his face as he takes in Ben’s blank stare. “Are you okay?”

“I–” the words can barely come out, not with his throat so tight that no air can get it. “I–” Ben tries again, doubles over and closes his eyes, takes deep breaths and counts to ten. “I need to see her. Now.”

Poe looks worried, but there’s no hint of wariness, of realization that he’s just given away his Queen’s master fucking plan. “Yeah, sure. She and the others should be wrapping up soon, anyway. Let’s get you back to your girlfriend, huh?”

It turns out that Mitaka took him on the scenic route; Poe ushers him out through a backdoor and has them in the main structure of the castle grounds within minutes. As soon as the throne room is in sight, Ben speeds up and leaves a puzzled Poe calling out behind him.

“Who–” Rey demands before she sees who it is that’s burst into her throne room without announcement or permission. “Oh,” she smiles, gets up from her throne to walk past her two knights and over to him.

The knights - Ẹsan the boy she rescued the night he killed the warlord who enslaved him and Tiêc the girl who lost a sister when Poe lost a wife – turn to him just in time to hear him say, “Out.”

“Beloved,” Rey frowns, “what–”

“Get _out_ ,” Ben commands, and the knights scramble to leave after a quick nod from their Queen. The doors behind them slam shut with a blast of power, the kind of outburst he’s managed to keep in check for _decades_.

Rey reaches for his hand, eyes wide with concern. “Ben–”

“You _lied_ to me!” he growls, and she staggers back. “You promised me you weren’t just another demon who’d been keeping tabs on me since I was born, you swore you weren’t using me for my powers!”

“Oh,” Rey murmurs to herself, stumbles backwards until she collapses into her throne. “ _Oh_.”

“The night we met – did you plan that?” Ben demands as he advances on her. “Fuck, did you plan all of this? Was it just a game to you all along, _Kira Ren_? All the others failed, so you decided you’d try good old seduction instead and turn me Dark by breaking my heart, is that it?”

“Ben, no–” she claims, rises from her throne to place a hand over his heart. “None of this was planned, none of it _needed_ to be planned. We were always going to find each other, eventually. We’re _fated_ , Ben, don’t you feel it–”

“Fated for _what_ , Rey?” he spits, pushing her hand aside. “For an eternity of you ruling with me as your attack dog? All those times you brought up how much easier it’d be with me by your side – you never meant as a team. You were talking about my bloodline, about my powers. _Fuck_ , to think that I almost gave in to you–” he curses, stunned by his own blindness after a lifetime of vigilance.

Rey stills, looks up at him with those shiny eyes and trembling lips she wears so well. “You… you what?”

He pulls the pouch from his pocket, tosses it at her with a little too much force. No point in keeping it, anyway, not when he’ll never find a use for it again. Let her have this, then, if she’s so keen on having a piece of Darth Vader’s fucking legacy.

“Ben,” Rey gasps when she fishes the ring out of the velvet bag, holds in her palms the symbol of love his grandfather presented to his grandmother when he promised them a future of light.

“This was never supposed to be just a visit,” he admits, taking a sick sort of pleasure in twisting the knife, in rubbing in just how close she’d gotten to deceiving him. “I was going to ask you to marry me today. Stars, I was going to _kill_ someone for you– fucking _idiot_ ,” Ben growls to himself, pulls viciously at his hair while he paces the length of the dais. “Balance? What a load of _bullshit_ , as if the demon queen could ever–”

From her spot where she’s crumbled to the ground, sitting on the stairs leading to her throne, Rey chokes on a sob. “Ben, please, I meant it, I meant all of it–”

“Because you’re the picture of honesty,” Ben scoffs with barely a glance in her direction. “Were you ever going to tell me, Rey? Would you have gone cold the second I tied myself to you and your mission was accomplished? Or, no, wait,” he hates how cruel he sounds, hates how his lips twist into a sneer when he finally turns back to her, hates the fact that he’s hurting her even though she’s cut him deeper than anyone ever could, “you would’ve kept it going a little while longer, wouldn’t you, until we had that big family you’re always talking about. A whole army of the most powerful demons to ever exist, you wouldn’t even need me after that–”

“Don’t!” Rey snaps, pulls herself up and dries off her tears. “Think what you want, Ben, but don’t _ever_ imply that I would’ve used our children–”

“–the way you tried to use me?”

“Fine, _yes_!" she cries, and it’s almost a relief to have confirmation, to know for sure. Now he can walk away with no what-ifs, no regrets–

“Yes, damn it, I wanted you for the prophecy, but not the way you’re twisting it!” Rey claims, a little scream of frustration lodged in her throat. “I’d been alone all my life, Ben, and here was a prophecy telling me that my perfect mate was somewhere out there, that once I found him I’d never be alone again, never be in danger again – whatever twisted idea you have of me _using_ you, it was _never_ going to be like that.”

He wants, so desperately– “How can I believe you, Rey? How can I ever trust you again?”

This time, when she reaches for him he lets her. “I could swear on my grandfather’s grave,” Rey whispers. “I could swear on my throne, on my life. But we both know these things don’t mean anything to me.”

“How convenient,” he mutters, but doesn’t shake her hand off his.

“But if you trust me, Ben, if you give me another chance – I will swear on our love, on our children, on the only things that matter to me,” she says fervently, digs her nails into his arm, “that you will never regret it.”

Ben scoffs. “That’s a bit of a gamble, isn’t it? What love, Rey? What love, _Kira_?”

Her nails break his skin. “ _Stop_ calling me–”

“It’s who you are, isn’t it?” he confronts her, that old fear that never quite let go of him bursting to the surface, sustained all the months by the amber flashes of her eyes and her callous treatment of others. Idiot, idiot, idiot, what an _idiot_ all along to believe that he was the only one, that he was special enough to change her– “Whoever it is I deluded myself into seeing… she never existed, did she? It was you all along, tricking me, manipulating me, playing me like a goddamn fiddle and I fell for it all like the lovesick _fool_ that I was–”

“Don’t,” Rey whispers, a fresh wave of tears shining in her eyes. “Don’t say that. Don’t say _was_ as if you don’t love me anymore.”

And fuck it all but he _does_ , she almost tricked him into an eternity of Darkness but it still hurts to see her this way, still kills him to know that he’s the one making her cry– “I love _Rey_ ,” Ben croaks in an attempt to cling to reason. “I love the woman I’ve spent the past two years with. If she never existed then–”

“She did, she does,” Rey insists as she hooks one leg around his ankle and knocks him off his feet, tackles him to the ground and softens the blow with her hands around the back of his head. “I love you. I’m her and I’m here and I _love_ you, Ben please–”

“Please,” she whispers, brings her hands to cradle his face, her thumbs caressing his jaw the way she does when she’s trying to wake him gently in the morning, the way she does when they’re curled up together in front of the TV and her fondness for him overflows. “Please, Ben, don’t leave me. Don’t leave me alone.”

He closes his eyes, lets his head fall against the harsh marble floor as she invokes his oath.

“You promised, Ben,” Rey says quietly, her voice small like a child’s, like the lonely child she’s been all her life, the one that calls to his soul the way every other part of her matches every other part of him. So different, so alike, _perfect mates_ the prophecy calls them.

The prophecy he knew nothing about, the prophecy that’s a hundred times worse than the destiny he’s been trying to outrun all his life, and where did _that_ get him? All that running, a lifetime of it, and here he is anyway, his soul in the balance, his heart in Rey’s hands–

Would it be so bad? If she’s trying so hard to keep him now, if she tries this hard for the rest of their lives… would it be so bad even if this _is_ a lie?

No worse than the alternative, than walking away from her today and spending the rest of his life wondering about the truth, looking over his shoulder, dreading the day his fate catches up with him… that’s not a life. Not the life his father would have wanted for him, not the life he wants for himself.

Ben takes a deep breath, pictures the life he’s been dreaming of since the day the devil appeared in his kitchen, and comes to a decision.

“I promised,” he concedes, opens his eyes and lets his hands rest on her waist. “I promise. You’ll never be alone again.”

This morning he was willing to fall to the Dark side for her love.

Everything, and yet nothing, has changed since then.

Rey smiles at him, and he ignores the flash of amber in her watery eyes as she leans down to kiss him. “You won’t regret this,” she murmurs against his lips. “I swear, Ben, on our happiness, I won’t let you regret this. We’ll be so good together, you’ll see, no one will ever stand in our way, no one will ever tear us apart–”

Because no one will ever be capable of it, but he kisses her again before she can remind him of that, of the fate he’s giving in to. Rey leans back, rests against his bent knees and produces something with a twist of her wrist.

The ring, he realizes as she hands it to him almost shyly. She must’ve hidden it away for safekeeping.

He had a speech planned, this morning. All of the sacrifices he’s willing to make for her, all of the love that overwhelms him each and every second.

Now… now there’s nothing left to say. Ben takes her hand, notes that they’re both shaking and tricks himself into letting that make him feel better, into letting that make him believe her.

The ring is a perfect fit, just like he always knew it would be.

Rey leans down, kisses him with a smile on her lips and warm tears that burn his cheeks. “My turn,” she whispers an eternity later, pulls him up with her and leads him to the throne where her sigil is carved into the gleaming onyx.

“This is my throne, my empire, my power,” she intones, still holding his hand, still smiling. “And all this I choose to share with you, will share with you for as long as we both live.”

She takes his hand, presses his palm to her sigil. The carved lines of the rune turn red, and his palm tingles but does not burn. Rey holds his hand in place, waits for a sign only she knows.

When the red glow disappears, she pulls his hand away and turns his palm to him so that they can see the mark he will carry for eternity slowly sink under his skin.

“It’s different,” Ben realizes with a start, looks up at the throne once the sigil on his palm disappears and finds that it’s changed too, grown more complex somehow, more _complete_.

“It’s ours now,” Rey tells him, uses his hand to trace out a mark he recognizes from before. “Kira,” she reads, and then traces the newer lines, “and Kylo Ren.”

She lets go of his hand to step behind him, wraps her arms around his waist and presses her lips to the back of his neck. “My consort. My emperor. My Kylo,” she whispers, her voice warm with affection but dark with triumph.

And Ben, newly engaged and crowned–

–Ben stares at the sigil, _their_ sigil, and doesn’t let himself turn back to see what color her eyes are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my usual ‘and they lived 100% happily ever after’ ending, but this was never meant to be my usual kind of story. This chapter - this whole fic, really - hinged on the big reveal. I hope I managed to pull that off.
> 
> When I first came up with this idea months ago, it was meant to be a tiny one-shot posted alongside _all the rituals between you and me_ as a pair of parallel fics. Obviously that didn't pan out, and I ended up spending months adding bits and pieces to my original outline without knowing if this fic would ever see the light of day.
> 
> Now it's done and it's out there in the world, and I can only hope even a fraction of the people reading this have enjoyed this odd little tale as much as I enjoyed bringing it to life. (And psst, if you did: don't forget to check out the epilogue!)
> 
> As always, thank you so, so much for reading. If you enjoyed this fic and/or have any thoughts/comments/questions, please don't hesitate to leave a comment. I'd love to hear your thoughts on this 'verse.
> 
>  **UPDATE** : [bonus Tumblr post](https://eleanor-writes-stuff.tumblr.com/post/179751900825/be-careful-of-the-curse-bonus-content) that touches on some backstory and unresolved questions.  
> 


	4. One Year Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was never meant to be more than a Tumblr bonus, but the plotless ficlet I originally envisioned ended up becoming nearly two thousand words of mildly suggestive throne room activities that offer us an idea of how Ben continues to struggle with his new reality even as he settles into his role as Emperor and husband. 
> 
> So here, have an epilogue. **Please note** that this chapter is slightly more M-rated than its predecessors - but only slightly.

Time in the Underworld is an odd thing.

Seconds stretch into lifetimes, and months fly by in the blink of an eye. Sometimes it seems like it was just last week that he slipped his grandmother’s ring onto Rey’s finger, but the one-year anniversary of his coronation tells him otherwise.

It feels like both five minutes and five hours have passed when Rey wraps her arms around him from behind. “I knew I’d find you here,” his wife murmurs, pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades before she stretches up on her tiptoes to nuzzle the delicate skin behind his ear. Ben turns to hold her in his arms, notes that she’s traded her heavy ceremonial garb for a wine-red robe that falls past her bare feet to puddle on the throne room’s marble floors. It’s an unexpected comfort to be able to fold her into his arms again after a long day of her standing tall and proud in towering heels that had wrapped around her legs all the way up to her thighs, coiled snakes with glittering rubies for eyes. Those she must’ve left in their room before coming to find him, along with all of the heavy jewels she’d adorned herself with for today’s celebration of their joint reign.

Her crown, however, she’s left on.

His own lies discarded in the sitting room of their chambers, the too-heavy reminder ripped off his head the minute he’d escaped the festivities.

Ben doesn’t say anything, just keeps his arms loosely wrapped around Rey while she twists around to follow his line of sight.

“You know you can sit on it, right?” she asks teasingly, nodding at the throne he’s been staring at for the past however long it’s been.  _Their_ throne, with his name right there alongside hers, and yet–

“Sometimes I forget,” Ben confesses into her neck, dots a trail of kisses down the curve of her shoulder until Rey shudders delicately in his arms and turns to look at him. “Is that weird? After a year?”

She smiles at him, shakes her head while one hand reaches up to card through his hair. “It took me a while to get used to it too,” Rey admits quietly, and Ben frowns.

“Really?” he asks dubiously. “But you’re  _perfect_ at this. You were literally born to sit on that throne.”

“And so were you,  _Kylo Ren_ ,” she reminds him pointedly, snakes both arms around his neck. “Besides, Palpatine’s blood or not, my early life did not prepare me for Queenship. The power? Now that I was born with. But the throne? Feeling like I belonged on it, feeling like I belonged  _here_  – that took longer than I’d like to admit.”

“I don’t,” Ben whispers, slender arms looped around his neck forcing him to look Rey in the eye as the confession slips from his lips. “I don’t feel like I belong here. I belong with  _you_ , but as King? On that throne? It doesn’t feel right.”

There are times when he looks back on his confrontation with Rey the first time he ever set foot in Korriban and sorely regrets everything he said to her. Tonight, feeling more lost than ever, he’s reminded of the accusation that all she’s ever wanted, the fear that all he’ll ever be, is the loyal attack dog meant to stand one step behind the Empress. Never beside, never together, never equal.

“Beloved–”

“No matter what I do, none of this feels like mine, Rey.  _Your_ victories.  _Your_ subjects. Sometimes I just…” Ben sighs, dips his head down to hide against her shoulder.

Rey’s fingers slide into his hair. “Do you regret it?” she whispers, and it’s that voice – that lost, scared little girl she still sounds like – that he clings to whenever he feels like he’s made the biggest mistake of his life.

He sighs, presses a kiss to her bare skin before he draws himself back up and cradles her face in his hands. “No,” Ben admits, closes his eyes and presses their foreheads together.

Through the connection that they’ve formed in the past year, the ancient blood bond she insisted on at their wedding to gain his trust again, he feels a surge of relief, warm and soothing. With her hands still cradling the back of his head, Rey draws him down into a kiss, tries and fails not to smile against his lips.

“I’m glad,” she murmurs when they break apart, eyes still closed and foreheads still touching as they catch their breath. “Now come,” his queen commands softly, one hand snaking down to find his and lace their fingers together before she leads him up the dais.

With a hidden strength that belies her true nature, Rey spins him around and pushes him onto the throne with a single hand wrapped around his bicep. “Our throne,” she says firmly, loosening her grip on him to run dancing fingers up and down his arm. “ _Your_ throne.”

“Rey,” he sighs, reaches out to pull her into his lap–

She bats his searching hands away and sinks to her knees instead, nimble fingers heading straight for the laces of his pants. The crown and heavy cape he’d ditched as soon as he could, but in the past year Ben’s gotten more used to wearing leather pants that he ever thought he’d be and had seen no reason to change before he came to brood in the throne room. Now Rey looks up at him as she unravels the ties holding his pants together, a familiar shade of amber flashing in her eyes.

His body reacts to it like the Pavlovian dog she’s turned him into, well aware of what follows when his wife’s eyes flash amber with desire or triumph or bloodlust. Still, he sputters, “Sweetheart, what are you–”

“Everyone,” Rey says, maintaining eye contact even as the last of his laces fall away to allow her access. “ _Everyone_ kneels before me, but I kneel only to you.” The first press of her cool fingertips to his heated skin makes him jump, and her lips curl into a satisfied little smirk at the reaction she’s able to draw from him. “Tell me why, Ben.”

 _Even if you never trust me again,_ Rey had declared the day of their engagement, moving gloriously above him as he begged and whined and pleaded for more in this very room, on the floor right next to the steps of the dais,  _even if you don’t love me anymore,_ this  _will remain. I will_ always  _have this power over you._

Not loving her was never an option, not even in those first few agonizing moments following the revelation of her betrayal. Not trusting her has been a struggle, every fiber of his being urging him to give himself wholly and completely to his perfect mate. But throughout it all, the ups and downs of their marriage so far, the distrust and discord between them on matters of the empire, one thing has proven consistent: nothing,  _nothing_ , could ever threaten her hold over him.

He’s been quiet for too long; the hand wrapped around him, moving agonizingly slow, comes to a stop. “Tell me why I kneel only for you, beloved,” Rey demands softly, her grip around him punishingly tight yet painfully stationary.

“Because–” he pants, tries to pierce through the haze of lust to discern her point. Rey hums approvingly at just that attempt, looks up at him with wide, expectant eyes as her hand begins to move ever so slightly. “Because I’m your consort?” What was meant to be an answer comes out so weakly, so pathetically, that it ends on a doubtful note.

Rey shakes her head, removes her hand entirely, and  _oh_ , if only their subjects could see him now, the Emperor a  _wreck_ at just the slightest touch, more desperate than an untouched adolescent. What little respect they hold for him now would just–

“Because you’re my  _King_ ,” Rey murmurs, and he can’t help the way his hips buck when she leans closer to replace her hand with her lips, pressing a feather-light kiss to his weeping head before she looks up at him. “Because you’re my Emperor just as I am your Empress, because we are  _equals._ We kneel only to each other, beloved.”

Ben nods, desperate, sharp bobs of his head as he accepts, agrees, anything,  _anything_ to make her–

“Say it, Ben,” her lips are so close he can feel her warm breath where he needs her most. “Tell me what you mean to me.”

“We’re–” he says shakily, cries out when she rewards him by wrapping her lips around him, her tongue swirling around his tip for one blinding, transcendent second before she stops, waits for him to earn more. “We’re –  _stars, Rey –”_ She hums around him, nearly shatters all coherent thought. It should  _not_ still be this way, it should not still feel like the first time, but he’s quickly realizing that they could be married for a century and Rey would still have him thoroughly under her spell, completely at her mercy.

He breathes in, clenches one fist around the nearest arm of the throne and allows the sharp edges of it to dig into his palm and center him. “Because we’re  _equals_ ,” Ben finally gasps, shakes like a leaf in the wind as Rey takes the rest of him into her mouth.

The noises she’s making around him are utterly debauched, and it doesn’t help that even the smallest sounds reverberate off the cavernous throne room’s walls. Between Rey’s ministrations and his own broken pleas, he can barely focus on the voice in the back of his mind.

 _I am yours to command, just as you are mine,_ Rey whispers, and he can almost feel her warm breath against the shell of his ear.  _You are my_ equal _, husband, and nothing less._

“ _Yes_ ,” Ben agrees out loud as Rey reaches up, guides the hand not wrapped around the throne to tangle in her hair. “Yes, equals–ours–  _mine–_ ” His thoughts come in snippets, his breath in ragged gasps, he can focus on nothing but the end now, finally in sight–

When Rey slips off him with a  _pop_ , he lets out the most mournful wail known to mankind. “Rey, please,  _please–”_

She hushes him gently, stands up and runs a hand through his sweat-slicked hair with a sympathetic little coo. “You did well, beloved. Good boy,” she murmurs, her other hand thumbing at his tip, the touch teasing but not much else, not enough–

“Listen to me,” Rey commands softly, slides her hand down from his hair to his jaw, tips his head up to look her in the eye. “This is your throne. Your kingdom. Your  _home_ , with me. Do you understand that now? Do you accept it?”

“Yes,” he whines, thrusts forward in a futile attempt to get her attention. “ _Yes_ , Rey, my Empress, my equal, please,  _please_ –”

Rey laughs, removes her hands from him entirely, and Ben thinks he could  _die_ but then she’s tugging at the tie around her waist, shrugging her robe off and letting it pool to the ground–

Wearing nothing but her swollen lips curled into a smirk and her jagged crown holding fast to wild curls, Rey has never looked more beautiful, more divine, more sinful.

“Now, my Emperor,” she smiles, her eyes entirely amber as she steps between his legs. “Would you like to bend me over  _our_ throne, or shall I ride you on it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we've reached the end, for real this time. I hope reading this gave you guys some closure, or maybe even a little peace of mind re: Ben's fate and his relationship with Rey.
> 
> I did warn y'all that it's mildly suggestive, right? I apologize for the awkward attempt at smut.
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading and please don't hesitate to reach out in the comments; I spent so long developing this 'verse that I'm always happy to talk more about it, and interacting with you guys is always such a joy.


End file.
